


Between Two Realities

by mogitz



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love, Near Death Experiences, Romance, post 2.21 fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-05 08:35:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14614212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mogitz/pseuds/mogitz
Summary: "Nothing in Betty's world will ever be like it was before. Her life will be forever split into two categories from hereon out: life before tonight... and everything after.One thick, bloody line between two realities."In the hours following his attack, Jughead clings to life. Meanwhile, Betty tries to fathom what life would be like without him while friends and family try to offer her comfort. But it's not enough.2.21 Post Episode Fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. As usual, I began a oneshot that took on a life of it's own. I'll be posting a few short chapters today and tomorrow (most is already written) of this fic taking place after the events of 2.21.

**_Riverdale Hospital - 8 Hours - Betty Cooper_ **

 

Betty exhales.

 

It feels like the first breath of her life. 

 

Or, more poignantly, the first breath of the  _ rest _ of her life. 

 

Nothing in Betty's world will ever be like it was before. Her life will be forever split into two categories from hereon out: life before tonight... and everything after.

One thick, bloody line between two realities.

Her wavering breath is as tired and strained as her aching body. She wants to cry so badly it physically hurts. It bubbles deep down in her belly and rattles her ribcage. 

But she's too tired to cry. Too tired to  _ think _ . Too tired to process anything that's happened to her tonight. First her dad, now this… she will never survive this. 

And if  _ he _ doesn’t… well, then she doesn’t want to.

 

The doctor emerges from behind the two steel doors, pulling off his operating mask. Everyone around her perks up, their faces hungry for anything. FP stands, running a bothered hand through his hair. He looks like he’s close to breaking.

“How is he, doc?”

"He’s not out of the woods yet, but there’s nothing more we can do.” 

The words uttered from the doctor’s mouth knock something loose inside of her. 

_ Unnerve _ her. 

Not that the cold, clinical waiting room of the hospital isn't already doing a good enough job of that. 

“But he’s going to be okay?” Cheryl asks. She’s beside Betty, gripping tightly to her cousin’s hand. She hasn’t left her side as night bled into day. 

The doctor glances down at their pleading faces, but only sighs, “For now… we wait."

Betty sucks in a shallow breath. Words burn like acid in her throat as she formulates the thoughts in her head, "how long?” She asks. Her voice sounds foreign coming from her own mouth. It must have been hours since she’s spoken, “How _ long _ do we wait?" 

Cheryl’s hand grips hers tighter - a reminder that she’s here… she’s not going anywhere.

“We never know in these situations. There was a substantial amount on bleeding on his brain. In some cases, it’s a few hours. In others, it could be days. _ Weeks- _ ”

Betty feels faint and his words sound far away and garbled. Pain claws at her heart when she really allows herself to think about it. 

 

_ What if he never wakes up? _

 

She'd been in such a state of shock that she really hadn't digested it yet. 

She  _ never _ wants to digest it. 

She just wants a few more moments of blissful ignorance without imagining his cold and lifeless body in his father’s arms - an image that will forever be filed away in the back of her mind, a picture memory of the worst night of her life. 

 

_ ‘Don't let the panic set in. Don't let it in-’  _

 

Her mind races when her fists want to clench, dig into her own skin to feel anything other than this. Her eyes blur with hot, stinging tears, but she again promises herself she will  _ not _ cry. 

_ No _ . 

Not until she has reason to. Not until they tell her that there’s no hope.

That he's really gone.

"Betty," FP says from a few feet away. He can tell she's getting emotional. Her attention snaps over to his face. He looks so much like Jug - she’d never really noticed just how much. She blinks away the wetness in her eyes, "you still with us?"

The doctor looks at her, and after a moment’s hesitation he suggests, "Miss Cooper, if you’d like to speak with one of our counselors-” 

"I'm fine."

 

_ I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fin- _

 

He shifts his weight and moves his clipboard under his arm, “Sometimes after a traumatic experience-" 

"She said she’s fine," Cheryl snaps at him for her. Betty is grateful, but says nothing. If he doesn't drop it - if they all don’t drop it - she knows she won't be fine. 

Once Betty has the time to truly process it all, she knows she will never be fine again. 

The doctor nods once, then turns to FP.

“If you’ll come with me we have some papers to sign-” The two turn and walk a few feet down the hallway and to the nurse’s station.

Betty grips Jughead's gray, tattered beanie in her hand.

It smells like him.

 

_ "I love you. I’ll never stop loving you." _

 

The last words he said to her echo in her head like the haunting cries of a ghost. No one will ever be the same. Everyone will be plagued with fear and memories of monsters and maniacs… but she will forever be haunted by the ghost of him. 

It's a tough pill to swallow.

It tastes too much like regret and all the words she never said.

"I don't care what you have to do, you get in there and you get my boy out!" Betty can hear FP’s voice echo down the long corridor.

 

She conquered the Black Hood. She saved herself. 

 

But she couldn't save him.

 

Betty closes her eyes and sinks back in her hard, plastic chair. Her hand slips from Cheryl’s and she hugs herself tightly instead - she is the only one who can comfort herself, now.

 

No one else can.

 

She closes her eyes and lets her own arms feel like his.

* * *

 

_**To** **Be Continued...** _


	2. Chapter 2

 

* * *

_**Riverdale Hospital - 12 Hours - Betty Cooper** _

It's been twelve _whole_ hours since her world came crashing down.

Betty hasn't moved from her chair. She wants to be here when the doctor tells them he's been moved from ICU and into a visiting room. She overheard the doctor talking to FP about some kind of complications. She purposefully tuned it out.

This is so unlike her.

Betty Cooper isn't one to give up. She should _be in_ there. She should be holding his hand and fighting _with_ him. But she's out here, and all she can do is wait.

Her tired eyes take in the state of the waiting room: FP snores, sprawled out in a chair. Alice is beside him, asleep with her head on his shoulder.

Archie and Veronica are snuggled, sleeping in each other's arms, up against a wall.

Cheryl is fast asleep on the ground, using Toni's lap as a pillow as Toni mindlessly pets down her fiery red hair and stares off at nothing in particular.

' _Oh Jug_ ,' Betty thinks to herself. ' _If only you could see how many people love you.'_

The quiet light pours through the sole window, all the way at the end of a corridor that is lined with waiting chairs.

Her eyes hurt from the lack of sleep, her throat feels raw. Dirt and blood have dried under her fingernails. She picks at the debris absently. Her clothes smell of sweat and fire and scorched earth. She wants to wash away all of the evidence of the worst night of her life, but at the same time, she wants to wear it as a battle scar forever.

She wonders if what they say is true: that time will heal all wounds. She can't imagine that ever happening, now.

_Survivor._

She hates that word.

It means that she is alive, but it doesn't mean she is still in one piece. Everything inside of her feels broken now, even if she is still living and breathing. It's the definition of resilience: existing in pieces.

"I'm surprised you're still awake." Betty is startled from her thoughts but recognizes the voice instantly as Sweet Pea. He towers above her, almost menacingly. But instead, he hands her a paper cup of hot coffee. She stares down at the undissolved instant coffee grounds floating in a whirlpool across the top.

"There's no way I could sleep," she mumbles, softly. She relishes in the feeling of the hot cup in her hand. He grunts as he brings his large body down into the chair beside her.

"Me neither," Sweet Pea admits, taking a sip of his own coffee, wincing at the taste, then taking another. He side-eyes Betty before reaching into his coat. He pulls out a silver flask with a snake emblem on it, pouring the contents into his cup. Then, he nudges it toward Betty. She stares at it for a moment, then takes it in her hand. Instead of adding it to her coffee, she tips it back, drinking down the rest of it.

It burns so good; it shoots straight up to her brain and numbs the aching that's been resting between her eyebrows.

But it can't take all of her pain away.

She hands it back to him, empty.

"Snake Juice," he answers the question she never asked. "I thought you could take the edge off."

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she drones back without looking at him.

"Have I not been nice to you?" he asks her, but when she merely cocks an eyebrow in return, he slinks back into his chair. "Alright. I haven't been that nice."

"And now?"

"Things are different now," is his short, simple reply. He pinches the space between his eyes on the bridge of his nose and sighs. "No serpent stands alone," she hears him mutter. Still, she says nothing. She cannot be a source of comfort for anyone right now.

But she'll listen.

It helps to listen.

"He's an idiot, you know. He should have fought alongside the rest of us like we planned. But no, no _. Not_ Jug. He had to go be a hero-"

" _Enough_ ," Betty whispers. She knows Sweet Pea doesn't mean it - at least, she _hopes_ he doesn't. Sweet Pea just needs to work through some stuff but… it can't be here.

Not with her.

"That's enough."

She looks up at him, and there are tears glistening in his dark eyes. He swallows. Nods.

"Your boyfriend's a hero," he chokes out. "More of a hero than I'll ever be." He turns his body more toward her and maybe it's the booze or maybe it's the grief, but he promises her, "I will find out what happened, Betty. Find out who did this to him. And I will bring you their head."

"At ease, Sweet Pea."

It's FP. He's awake now. He's talking quietly not to wake everyone up - specifically Alice who is sleeping on his shoulder. But his voice is firm just the same.

Sweetpea stands in a huff, storming down the hallway and outside, hopefully just to get some fresh air.

Silence weighs heavily between the two of them, the only two awake.

"I uh… I heard about your dad, kid," FP says after a moment. Betty shifts in her chair - it's becoming more and more uncomfortable as the hours creep along. "Hal always had a darker side to him. But I never thought…" His words trail off, he shakes his head. "We're here for you. Whatever you need. You're family. But for now… Betty… _Go_ home. Get some sleep. We'll stay here and tell you if anything changes."

She just stares back at him, unsure how to tell him that what happened with her father will haunt her… but what's happening with Jug is going to _kill_ her.

Even still. She can't go home to that house.

"You _don't_ understand," Betty says through her teeth, the tears returning to her eyes, "I don't _have_ a home to go home to anymore. Jughead _is_ my home."

* * *

_**Jughead Jones** _

Jughead Jones didn't exactly expect to die that night.

But we all know it's inevitable, right? Death and taxes, that whole spiel. We just don't have a specific date in mind. Death is perceived as just some undetermined, far off blip on the horizon that we try to not think about.

But 16 years old?

_Really?_

He still had so much more left to do.

The whole ordeal happened so quickly that a lot of details have been blurred together, the edges curling and yellowing in the memories of this bittersweet hereafter.

All Jughead remembers of the night he died was that bright, iridescent light that all those near-death-experiencers are always blabbing on and on about through tissues on a lame, daytime TV talk show. The host bobs their head sympathetically as they catch their own reflection in the camera lens, only half-heartedly listening, _certainly_ not believing. Interestingly enough, you don't walk towards that light so much get hurled into it -like the tilt-o-whirl at the state fair - but it doesn't lead where you expect.

When he came out from the other end of the tunnel, he expected to be greeted with all those things those evangelists talk about. He expected fat, little babies with wings and golden gates with a doorman and a big list of names, turning people away and ushering them in like a nightclub bouncer. He expected halos and clouds and all the works.

But when brightness dimmed and Jughead came to, it wasn't this Hollywood image of Heaven he stood in.

But it may as well have been.

He stood in Betty Cooper's bedroom. She's standing in front of him and he remembers this moment. It makes his heart stop and his breath hitch.

" _Oh yeah,_ " he remembers but doesn't say aloud. " _You._ "

She's flustered. Worried.

"We're all crazy," he assures her. "We're not our parents. We're not our families."

His hand rests on her shoulder, and she seems comforted by it.

He remembers this.

He remembers.

"Also-" He chokes on his words. He wants to tell her he remembers, wants to tell her he _loves her_. That he's still here.

"What?" she asks as if it were all that simple. She smirks - those lips he's kissed a hundred times, but will never be enough. She shifts on her feet and her eyes shine and-

_Oh, God._

He _has to fight._

He can't leave her.

He can't leave her like this-

"What?" she almost giggles when he doesn't respond.

Jughead cups her face in his hands and kisses her with all he has left in him. The moment his lips connect with hers, he remembers everything.

Their first kiss.

When he told her he loved her.

When she said it back.

When he silenced her call.

When she broke his heart.

When he broke hers.

It all floods him at once and it tastes like heaven and hell and oh God.

He has to fight.

He has to fight for her.

They break, and she's breathless. She thinks this is the first time they kissed, but they've kissed a thousand times in a thousand lifetimes and it never ceases to weaken his knees and grip on his heart.

She grins against him, her eyes still shut.

Exhales.

Relief.

He knows what she's going to say next. She's going to remind him of Jason's car.

Instead, her eyes slowly flutter open and she whispers, "Wake up, Juggie."

Jughead is pulled back from the light by the sound of voices -

No.

 _Her_ voice.

The last voice he wanted to hear before he left this world. It's calling him back.

He walks toward it. Hell, he would run toward it if his legs were strong enough to carry him there.

Now he can hear the far-away sound of the beeping heart monitor.

He is alive.

But he is not awake.

* * *

**_Cooper Residence - 16 Hours - Betty Cooper_ **

It's not her home, anymore.

Everything that happened here since the day she was born has been a lie.

But… there's a warm bed. And that's all she can care about right now.

Veronica walks her up the stairs and to her bedroom. Betty moves like a zombie, shuffling slowly on her feet in a daze.

She makes it a few feet in and collapses onto the end of the bed. Veronica sits gingerly beside her, helping her take off one shoe, then the other. She helps her remove her jacket, loosen her ponytail. She sits with her until she falls asleep. Betty thought she wouldn't be able to sleep, but she passes out the second her head hits the pillow. She expects nightmares of black-hooded monsters and bloodied bodies.

Instead, it's just black nothingness. There's comfort in that.

She never even bothered to change out of her clothes.

She sleeps and sleeps, hard and long. But at some point in the night, she stirs. It feels like there's someone there with her - she knows that's impossible. Yet in the blue-black glow of the early morning, she thinks she can feel him next to her.

Her head is heavy from too much sleep, her mouth dry and stale. She wants to unhinge her jaw and say something. Inst,ead she presses the cool side of the pillow against her face and squeezes her eyes shut.

Her mind is jolted with memories, all at once. Interlaced fingers. Fleeting touches. Butterflies in her stomach. Forehead kisses. Soft whispers in the wee hours of the morning, a time when neither of them were ever sleeping.

Because of each other, they never had to be alone. They got used to that.

_No._

Counted on it. _Depended on it._

'I will spend my whole life loving you,' he had told her once, his face barely discernible in the darkness of her bedroom one of the many nights he'd snuck through her window. His hand weighed heavily on her cheek, warm and comforting. She traced the lines of his face through lazy, half-lidded eyes.

There was a mutual need. A longing.

For a moment, she can almost hear him breathing.

She knows he's not there.

God, this was going to take some getting used to.

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

 

_Sometimes we need_

_To be completely removed_

_To comprehend what we truly can miss_

_That being said, I can't begin to pretend_

_My heart does not pine for you_

_May there be a peaceful road ahead of you tonight_

_May there be still waters_

_Here my ship lies to take you where you can rest your head_

_I will not watch you die_

* * *

**Cooper Residence 36 Hours**

_Ding._

**Toni** [6:30 am]: No changes to report yet. I'll keep you posted if anything happens.

_Ding._

**Veronica** [8:12 am]: You okay? Everyone is asking about you. Do you need anything?

_Ding._

**Cheryl** [8:30 am]: When was the last time you ate? Can I bring you something?

_Ding._

**Sweet Pea** [9:14 am]: We found her. We found Penny. Rounding up some serpents now.

_Ding._

**Archie** [9:44 am]: Meet me at the hospital cafeteria? Coffee?

 

Betty's fingers hover over the keyboard on her phone, but type out nothing.

She cannot find the will to respond. There have been about 15 other texts from the rest of them, a few faint knocks on the door over the last few hours from her mom who has tried - _and failed_ \- to get Betty to eat something.

She rolls over into her pillows, wanting to hide away from the world forever. It still doesn't feel real. She had prayed during those agonizing hours in the dark what this was all just a nightmare. She squeezes her eyes shut and prays to disappear, only to come back when all of this is over.

Her prayers are not granted, however, when Alice enters the bedroom. Slowly, she peeks her head in, and sees that Betty is awake amongst her pillows and blankets. She holds a folded stack of clothes in her hand.

"Hi sweetie," she greets, approaching slowly as one would approach an injured wild animal. Betty can't say she blames her - she's done her fair share of lashing out since this all happened. "I just got off the phone with FP," Alice tells her, and Betty slowly sits up.

Her heart leaps into her throat as she waits what comes next. She fears for the worst.

"He's still in ICU. They've had to keep him in a medically induced coma until the bleeding on his brain lessens…"

"And if it doesn't?" Betty croaks.

"If it doesn't… they'll need to go in surgically to take some of the pressure off his brain."

"So… they still have no idea if he's going to be okay?" Betty says with a sob in her voice. She chokes it down. It burns.

"No, I'm sorry Betty."

Betty takes it in. Processes it. Files it away in the back of her mind in a folder labeled "open later."

Pandora's box.

"And dad?" Betty dares. Alice just freezes up for a moment, her mouth agape. Then, she shakes her head.

"No, honey. I don't have an update on him."

Betty wishes she didn't care, and she regrets even asking. Her father terrorized this town - terrorized _her_. He doesn't deserve her grief.

"Here are some clothes," Alice says, moving the folded pile from her lap to the end of the bed. "Come down when you're done. We can talk more."

Betty almost can't bring herself to finally step into the shower - but it's already been over 36 hours and she can't avoid it any longer.

Her heart thumps hard in her chest as she strips herself down, piece by piece, too afraid to look in the mirror because she is terrified of what she might see.

A reflection of her father?

' _Don't think about it,_ ' she tells herself. ' _You're safe now_.'

She knows it isn't true… there's still another Black Hood out there. But she can't bring herself to care about much of anything… not while Jughead was still being kept alive by tubes and wires.

She wishes she could just get her mind to stop racing. She can't stop picturing the horror she saw, FP carrying him out of those woods. When she lets herself think about she flushes with rage.

Rage that someone would do such a thing to the person she loves more than anything. He was beaten senseless and then _left for dead._

Like he was garbage.

Like he was _nothing_.

She tries not to think about how terrified he must have been. Tries not to imagine that he called for her, that he _needed_ her.

And she wasn't there.

There's a sense of relief as she listens to the sound of the running water - it drowns out the loud silence. Makes her feel safe. Being alone now feels less alone than surrounded by her friends.

Steam fogs the bathroom and water rolls down her skin - dirt and blood and sweat clouds the water that pools at her feet. It almost makes her sad to see the traces of that night circle around the drain and disappear altogether.

When she steps out of the shower, it's almost as though it never happened - if only forgetting were so easy.

She foregoes the clean clothes set out by her mother and opts for Jughead's flannel and pair of jeans, instead.

It makes her feel better and worse at the same time.

She's scared she'll never be able to take it off.

_Ding._

**Archie** [11:11 am]: Betty. Please.

_Ding._

**Archie** [11:11 am]: Say something.

* * *

_**Jughead Jones** _

Jughead is pulled back through the tunnel and through that light again, only this time when he steps out of it, he's not in Betty Cooper's bedroom.

Jughead stands in the darkness of his father's trailer, and he can still see her. She's standing a few feet away from him - she's _right_ there - and it's never felt farther away.

"Until he gets out, I'm not giving up on him, Jug."

He feels the corners of his mouth pull to a smile.

 _Oh, god, does he remember this night._ The nerves in his stomach as he contemplated if he had to courage to tell her what he'd been longing to tell her for so long… the fear that she might not say it back.

"Hell no," he mumbles, the words running together like wet paint. He tugs his hat off and tosses it aside, "and that is why I love you, Betty."

He watches her shoulders tense and he'd never been so scared in his life. She turns around, to face him, her eyes wide and glossy and full of emotion.

"I love you, Betty Cooper," his voice is so soft, just like his heart at this very moment. She brings out the best in him - the parts of him that he'd always wished he could be.

She smiles, and everything good inside of her shines through. She steps toward him slowly, and even though he's terrified, he's never felt safer in his entire life.

Especially when she gently tells him, "Jughead Jones… I love you."

She means it, of this he is sure.

He's never been so certain of anything in his life.

Especially as she lightly huffs out a giggle, her smile broadening. She grins into his lips and kisses him, her hand coming up to softly cup his cheek.

_He remembers this._

_Oh, God does he remember this._

And he's suddenly so vastly aware that this is what he is fighting for, what he needs to come home for. Their lives are just beginning. This wasn't supposed to be how their story ended.

He lifts her up and she squeals excitedly, and he can't remember a time when he was this happy.

No Serpents. No Black Hoods. No Hiram Lodge or Penny Peabody.

Just two teenagers, young and in love and promising each other the world because they felt like it was theirs to give.

He whirls her around and her back slams against the kitchen cabinets. He almost stops to apologize, but she gives him no indication that it hurt her. As his lips hungrily find her neck, her hands roam his body. This could have been their night. And while he doesn't regret the way it ended up happening for them later, this was the night that changed everything.

He remembers the knock before it comes, but it doesn't make it any less startling.

"Oh my God," she gasps, and he can feel her heartbeat thumping from where he's standing. He can feel it because his beats back just as hard.

"Is that your mom?" he asks, but of course he knows it's not.

"Who else would it be?"

Jughead begins to pull from her, but is surprised when she pulls back.

This… this is different.

This isn't how it happened before.

"Jug," she breathes, her voice a beg. She's breathing heavily, and she almost looks terrified.

"What's wrong?"

"What if this time… you don't open the door," she says, almost a whisper. She stares deeply into his eyes. Her hands come up to brush the sides of his face, lovingly. Pleadingly. Her voice cracks in half as she says, "What if this time… you stay."

Another knock comes, angrier than before.

More demanding.

"Please," she says. Jughead swallows. Nods. He would do anything she asked of him, just so long as he could keep her. She pulls him closer, scooching herself down to the edge of the counter where their bodies connect. She kisses him, her lips brushing fleetingly against his.

"Come back to me, Juggie," she says into his lips. Her breath is hot and smells just like he remembers.

_Home._

"I will," he promises.

Her eyes open slowly, "You have to wake up."

* * *

 

**Hospital Cafeteria - 38 Hours**

"You're only as alone as you want to be, Betty."

Archie states this as though it is a fact and not an opinion.

"You can talk to me. Really. I'm here for you. We all are."

Betty's grip tightens around the hot coffee mug in her hand, the padding of her fingers turning white. It burns her palms but she's relieved to feel _something_. It takes everything out of her not to scream and throw it across the room.

She wants to thrash and cry and unleash.

No one knew just how much he meant to her. That's impossible - even she can't fathom the depths of her love for him.

She somehow smiles, although without teeth. It's tight and fake and strained but it seems to appease him.

"Noted. Thanks, Arch." He leans forward, his arms creeping across the table and his hand resting atop hers.

"We're all here for you. And we're gonna get through this. Together."

He sounds so sure. She appreciates his earnestness.

She lifts the cup of coffee to her lips to free herself of his comforting hand. She doesn't want to be touched. She mutters another thank you but wishes she never agreed to see him. She knows he's just trying to help, but it stings too much. Every single person she's around now is just a reminder that it's not him. That it may never be him.

Betty traces her fingers across the knotty, wooden table of the cafe, wishing Archie would stop staring at her with so much sympathy.

_Poor, poor Betty. All alone. Her daddy is a murderer, her boyfriend is clinging to life._

She bets he expects her to cry.

"I'm scared, too, Betty. I miss him, _too_ ," Archie's voice cracks. She realizes when her eyes lock onto his that he is saying what he needs to hear from _her_. She cannot even begin to imagine how to make him feel better when she feels like she's dying so she says nothing.

He shrugs, but there's nothing casual about what he is saying, "I just keep thinking of all the times I took Hiram's side o-or… I-I… I _should_ have been there, Betty. He was probably down there thinkin'... thinkin' that I didn't care..."

She has to look away from his teary eyes because she doesn't trust herself not to break down right along with him. She's so frustrated, being out here. Jughead is literally in the same building as her and he might as well be in another dimension.

"He went alone," she murmurs, forcing herself from the silence as she stares down at her coffee. She laughs softly from her nose, shaking her head. "He didn't even give us a chance to be there."

Betty is overcome with regret. She didn't even get to tell him she loved him too, before he hung up the phone. She thought she had all the time in the world. She runs her fingers through her golden hair and clenches, frustratedly.

"Betty, don't have t-"

_"I'm fine."_

She shuts down.

The only way to survive this is to feel nothing at all. Actually allowing herself to feel the crushing pressure of everything building up inside of her will kill her.

Archie leans back in his chair, wiping the wetness from under his eyes. He shakes his head and swallows.

" _...I'm_ not."

Betty and Archie's phones buzz at almost the exact same time. They exchange a glance, then reach for their phones to receive the message:

 **FP** [12:11 pm]: Our boy is pulling through. Moving him out of ICU. Get back here.

* * *

  _You still live and breathe_

_More than any man I know_

_On mountains high through valleys low_

_It's hard to believe_

_You once were holding death so close_

_Now full of life, enriched with heart, heart_

_May there be a peaceful road ahead of you tonight_

_May there be still waters_

_Here my ship lies to take you where you can rest your head_

_I will not watch you die_

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

_**Two weeks later - Betty Cooper** _

 

_He was supposed to be okay._

 

Betty sits in the first pew, but her heart might as well be in that casket with him.

Her eyes burn into the large photograph of Jughead, propped up by an easel in the front of the room. It's a school photo. They made him take off his hat.

' _He would have hated that photograph_ ,' she thinks to herself.

The casket is closed and it is so unnerving, saying goodbye to a photograph.

Feels so… _unfinished._

' _Just like us,'_ she thinks.

She's supposed to go up there to say a few words... but _how?_

How does she go up in front of a huge group of mourners and say goodbye to someone who didn't even _feel_ gone? Betty can't even _begin_ to fathom how she is going to say goodbye to Jughead.

_He was her best friend._

_Her person._

Cheryl squeezes her hand softly and Betty's eyes tiredly flit up to her cousin's face.

"You're on," Cheryl whispers, her own eyes wet and swollen from crying. Toni leans over her from the other side of Cheryl and gives Betty's arm a gentle rub, a little bit of silent encouragement - her nose is red, her own cheeks tear-streaked as well.

Betty nods vacantly and stands in a daze, her crinkled notes in her hand. Everyone is eerily silent. Betty feels sick under all their pitiful, tearful stares as she slowly walks up towards the podium. She passes the photograph of Jughead, and his eyes seem to follow her. She lets her fingertips trail across the smoothness of the print and along his face as she steps onto the small lifted stage.

Her heart is thrashing around in her chest wildly and she is silently wondering how she is going to get through this speech without breaking down. She clenches her jaw, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she stares out at everyone - familiar and new faces stare back at her.

She takes in a staggered breath, smoothing out the wrinkled and smudged paper in front of her - it is no use. Her eyes are instantly filled with tears and her vision blurs as she attempts to make any sense of her own words.

And even now, she realizes there is nothing on that paper that can describe the exact shape of the hole in her chest - now and forevermore.

"Jughead would have hated this," she improvises, somehow smiling through her tears and wiping them away quickly with a sniffle. There are quiet chuckles in the audience; it is true. The place is filled to the maximum occupancy, people even standing in the back.

"He hated parties," she adds, softly. She bites down hard on her lip to keep from grimacing in pain in front of everyone, so much so she fears she might bite through the skin. She crumples up the note cards.

"I'm not gonna read from this, actually. Because there are no words on paper that could ever describe what he meant to me," her voice cracks. She brings her hand to her heart and it literally feels like it might be breaking in her chest. "Jughead was my best friend. He was my _family_. We had plans to grow-" she stops speaking.

Chokes on the bitter words.

Shakes her head as more tears come to replace the ones she's pushed away.

"This was just so unfair."

Betty's breathing becomes shallow, her vision growing dark around one center point - she thinks she might pass out. She hasn't been able to eat, hasn't been able to sleep since it happened. She leans on the podium for support.

"If you didn't know before, you should know now," she continues, her eyes finding FP and Gladys in the front row. "I loved your son… so much," her voice breaks, the tears falling freely now. She doesn't even try to wipe them away now. There's no point.

She sniffles again, "when Jug and I were in kindergarten, he used to refuse to play with any of the other girls but me. He said I was the only girl he liked. That I was the only girl he would _ever_ like..." her words trail off as she recounted the memory in her head, still so vivid. Like it was yesterday.

"I think I knew even then that he was the love of my life-"

Betty's voice hitches suddenly. She covers her hand over her mouth to keep a loud sob from escaping her lips as she processes the words that were coming out; that dream is dead. It is never going to happen.

Betty buckles over, her core giving out as the sob leaps from her throat anyway. She had tried too hard to keep this from happening, to keep from falling apart in front of everyone.

But here, in this moment, Betty is inconsolable. She rests her head on her arms across the top of the podium, trying desperately to get it together as she weeps and weeps. It doesn't last as long as it feels, however, before she feels a hand resting on her back, and she turns to see Archie right next to her, comforting her and taking over the microphone to finish what Betty can't.

"Clearly, Jughead touched a lot of lives." He turns back towards the picture of him, folding his lips to keep himself from breaking like Betty before him. She stands upright, the two of them leaning on each other, his arm draped protectively over her shoulders.

One way or another, they were going to get through this moment.

"And I never thought I'd be up here, speaking at my best friend's funeral. Life's just… pretty messed up sometimes, I guess. And I can't even begin to tell you how much we are going to miss him. He was the best person I ever knew… His heart, his compassion. His dark, really weird sense of humor… the world is a sadder place without him in it," Archie says, and Betty admires his strength and bravery. She is grateful that he came to her side to say all of this. She gives him a weak, appreciative smile.

"And look… I'm not gonna pretend like things didn't get really bad there for a while. But he always tried his damnedest to do the right thing. He was my brother. And nothing will ever change that," he promises, swallowing down his own grief, his nostrils flaring as he attempts not to lose it, himself.

"And he loved you." As Archie says those words, he looks back down at Betty and for a moment - _just a split second_ \- her heart feels a little bit lighter. Archie looks back out to the sea of faces, "and we will spend the rest of our lives missing him."

Betty looks out at the crowd, and she wants to say something more but her words are lodged in her throat the moment she watches a stranger come in from the doors: a man in a black hood. She wants to scream, but she freezes. Nothing comes out.

And then she thinks… maybe she should just let him take her.

At least then she would be with him.

* * *

 

_**Jughead Jones** _

When Jughead opens his eyes, he's not in a hospital bed.

He's outside, holding a phone to his ear as it rings.

"Betty…" He breathes when she answers. He remembers almost wishing she _didn't_ answer. As much as he wanted to say goodbye to her, the thought is just too painful to bear. "I'm happy to hear your voice."

But there is no happiness in his own. Only dread.

"Me too Jug," she almost sighs. "You have _no_ idea."

He can't ask her why. He has to tell her what he called to say quickly, before she tries to stop him. Before she starts asking questions.

"I just wanted to let you know that I love you," he utters, trying to keep his voice as calm and level as he possibly can. "I'll never stop loving you."

He can sense her urgency as she asks him, "What are you saying, Jug? Where are you?"

The questions begin. He has to go.

"I'll see you soon."

That wasn't a goodbye. That was _a promise_.

Because no matter what happened to him, he couldn't bring himself to say goodbye. He would see Betty Cooper again one day, in this life or in the next.

He hangs up.

He turns off his phone.

He marches forward like a soldier going off to battle.

" _I'll see you soon."_

The words repeat in his mind over and over again, a mantra of sorts, as he approaches Penny. Because he meant it, damn it. He'll see her again.

" _I'll see you soon."_

For a flash, he sees Betty's face. Her soft smile. Her eyes. He regrets every moment he pushed her away and didn't just embrace her these past few months. He regrets every time he should have said I love you, but didn't.

" _I'll see you soon."_

Jughead isn't a fighter. He has no intention of accelerating the tension. He wants to be diplomatic. He wants to resolve this, if at all possible…

But deep down, Jughead knew he wasn't going to come back from this meeting.

Because then Betty's name is Malachi's mouth.

And it's snide.

And it's vulgar.

And it knocks something loose in Jughead.

And he takes that first, fateful swing.

" _I'll see you soon."_

With every kick, every punch, he sees her. He thinks about his promise, about how he won't live to keep it.

He hears Penny yelling out, and _oh God_ , they're stopping. They're backing away. She approaches him and kneels down. He stirs, he groans. His mouth feels like it's full of cotton and it tastes of bitter, coppery blood. The nausea from the sheer pain hits him and his stomach retches, wanting to expel his insides but there's nothing to vomit.

"An eye for an eye," she says, at least, he thinks she does. His ears are impacted with dirt and blood. But then, _oh..._ he _feels_ it: the slicing, sharp agony of blade to skin, right on his shoulder. He howls in pain and squeezes his eyes shut, and again he sees Betty's face.

"Jughead Jones… I love you," she says.

_Flash. Another moment._

"Whatever it is you need to figure out… I support you"

_Flash. Another moment._

"I want all of you. Tonight."

_Flash. Another moment._

"I never stopped loving you, Jug. I'm not sure I can."

_And then… nothing._

_No more pain._

_Only darkness._

_Silence._

He feels like he's floating, detached from his body but he can see and feel and hear nothing.

Until he sees the light, far off in the distance. He walks towards it, slowly at first, but then faster and faster and he's almost there.

_Wait._

He hears her. He hears her voice. It's quiet, but it's there.

"Before you go, you just have to do one thing for me, Jughead."

"Anything. I'd do anything for you," he says without speaking.

"I need you to wake up."

The light dims, more and more. Fading. Everything around him is fading.

"Wake up, Juggie. _Please_."

* * *

 

_**Riverdale Hospital - 52 hours** _

 

" _Betty._ "

 

She hears her name being called, gently pulling her from sleep. She sits up with a bit of a startle, and she's back in the waiting room again. Cheryl is standing over her.

The nightmare she'd just had is still lingering over her, like a fog, and she fears it might linger for some time.

It felt so real.

"I fell asleep," Betty mutters, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and sitting up in her chair. She doesn't even know how she managed to doze off at all in that horrible waiting room chair, but relief washes over her when she begins to remember that Jughead is _not_ dead. That she didn't just speak at his funeral.

That she didn't just wish for her own death.

"He's officially out of ICU," Cheryl tells her and Betty practically leaps from her seat. She's wide awake now, but she has no idea what is happening.

"Where is he? When can I see him?" Betty rattles off frantically. "I-is he awake? Why didn't you wake me up?"

Cheryl opens her mouth to answer, but then the silver doors open and the doctor comes out to greet them. Betty's mind is so loud she only picks out the most important words:

_Stable._

_Sleeping._

_Breathing on his own._

_Family only,_ he says.

FP protests, his arm protectively wrapping over Betty's shoulder as he lets him know, _under no uncertain terms_ , that she _is_ family. The doctor insists on only FP coming back for now. He gives Betty one last glance, one that says he'll be right back, and the two of them disappear behind a gray, steel doors.

_That was almost an hour ago._

Betty can't believe it's been over two days since she last heard his voice, even longer since she kissed his lips or touched his skin. Her fingers ache to touch him.

The doors reopen and the gush of wind feels like an exhale, like the hospital is breathing a sigh of relief into her.

_Finally._

She sees the doctor and a nurse, first.

Then FP.

He's smiling.

_Oh, God. He's smiling._

He holds the door open with his hand, then nods her back. Betty stands slowly from her chair and wobbles a bit, afraid her legs might give out altogether. This is _it_. She gets to see him. Tears sting her eyes as she really lets that thought settle into her brain.

"Betty, what are you waiting for?" Cheryl practically snaps, but when Betty looks at her, she sees she's just as excited for Betty as she is. She looks around at all of them - they've been so amazing to her, she cannot even begin to know how to thank them. She'd spent the last 48 hours in an absolute daze. It was as if she was asleep, just as Jughead has been.

Betty's feet move without her thinking, propelling her after FP and down the long, winding corridors.

And then… there's a door. And he's behind it. FP opens it and nods again.

"He's on some pain pills but… he's awake."

Betty goes to step forward, but FP stops her for one more moment. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her in for a hug and it's the first time she's let herself be comforted since this all happened.

He squeezes her tighter as he tells her, "you saved my boy, Betty."

He pulls from her and she just stares back at him in confusion. He was the one who rode to him. He was the one who pulled him from those woods. He must be able to tell that she doesn't understand. His voice is low as he explains, "if you hadn't called me… we wouldn't have found him in time. The doctor said even an hour later… he wouldn't have made it."

Betty blinks away the tears in her eyes and pushes that very thought out of her mind - Jughead cold and dead and alone in Fox Forest.

No.

"It was nothing…" she whispers with a shrug, but he shakes his head.

"That's not all. There were a few times there that we almost lost him. He woke up saying your name. He came back for you, Betty. You saved his life in more ways than one."

Betty doesn't know what to even say to that, so she just smiles softly and gives him one more hug. He wipes the mist from his eyes and holds the door open wider so she can go in.

Betty steps inside the hospital room, and he shuts the door behind her so they can be alone.

She can hear the haunting, constant beep of the heart monitor and it makes the lump in her throat grow in size. She's never been so happy to hear that noise.

Betty takes in a sharp breath when she sees him. The first thing she notices is that Jughead looks so different - fragile and broken, resting in that hospital bed.  
Still, she feels a faint smirk curve her lips, even though she doesn't feel like smiling. He's broken and damaged but he's here. Really, truly here.

Alive.

The exhaustion she's felt for days melts from her and she hurries over to his bedside.

He's got his eyes closed, but she takes his hand and he's warm. He's whole and safe and oh my God, she can't believe it.

_And then… oh._

And then the most beautiful thing happens: he opens his eyes. His pupils dilate, adjusting to the dim lights and after a second, they fixate on her face. She can see how drugged they have him by just how lazy and slow his blinks are, but they are _his_ eyes.

And they are beautiful.

"Jug," her voice shakes and her hands reaches out to cup his cheek. Her heart wants to burst when his own hand slowly inches up to rest on hers. "You're back."

"Was I gone?" his voice croaks. It's slow and deep and loopy from the meds they've presumably given him. And it is the most beautiful sound in the world.

"Yeah, you sorta had us worried there," she tells me, her voice low and raspy. She closes her eyes and shakes some unmentionable thoughts away, her fingertips pressing between her eyes. When her eyes open back up, they're full of tears. "I never want to see anything like that again. I thought-" she stops, her voice breathy and wavery as she tries to keep herself from falling apart.

She smiles through the tears and the smile is stretched out and way too big to be real, she knows she must look insane. She _feels_ insane. She's trying to keep from crying so hard it's actually painful.

"I thought you were dead," she laughs without humor.

"I'm here," he says. "I promised… I'd see you soon."

Her face shifts, contorts. She's can't hold back anymore. She is beginning to finally unravel. She hides behind her hands so he can't see her but it's too late - the damage has been done.

"Betty…"

The sound of him saying her name finishes her.

It is only now that Betty allows herself to cry and once it starts, she fears it will never stop. Hot, desperate tears and deep, throaty sobs empty from her, so much so she fears they may drown.

Since she saw him being carried from those woods, she'd kept it together. Been strong. Because breaking down meant admitting that it was real. And it was as though she was waiting to fall apart until he could be the one who rightly got to hold her back together.

"Betty?" he tries again, trying to get her to look at him, but she buries her face into the white, scratchy blankets of his hospital bed.

"Betty, _please_ ," he tries to calm her, his own voice wavering as well. Finally, she looks up at him, the tears still flowing freely. With what little strength he has, he pulls at her to get her to move closer. She stands, leaning in to press her forehead to his, softly.

"I'm still here. I'm not dead." His thumb comfortingly grazes against her cheek. "It's okay."

He slowly opens up the blanket for her to climb inside the bed beside him. She hesitates at first, but then slips off her shoes and crawls in beside him among the tubes and wires. She wraps her arms as tightly around him as she can without hurting him.

Like she might never see him again.

His fingers dig into her skin like claws. She listens to his strained breathing, never more thankful in her life as she is in this moment. She can feel him shake beneath her - he's crying too.

She pulls from him, pressing kiss after kiss against his skin, showering him with affection she didn't even know existed within her. Tears sting her eyes - she wants him to know, even without words, just how much she's mourned for him.

"A part of me died right there along with you," she mutters, her voice far away. "I love you so much it hurts. And I don't ever want to imagine what my life would be like without you."

"you never have to again,"Jughead promises her, then he tilts her head up, "I will always come back for you."

For a long while, they say nothing as she lies snugly beside him as they continue to cry.

He hates that he ever hurt her.

"Betty Cooper, I love you."

He kisses the top of her golden head as she takes his hand in hers. She gently traces her finger down his lifeline.

It's longer than either of them expected.

* * *

_fin._


End file.
